Page 32 of Sir Hugo Seeks a Wife (Cinderellas of Mayfair #1)

“Good Lord, I didn’t.” His laugh was self-conscious. “I’m sorry, Athene. I owe you better than that. I could have paused to ask how you are.”

When she buried her face in his creased white shirt, she inhaled his delectable male scent. Horses. Sweat. Sex. And the essence of Hugo that she loved. She’d been so forlorn without him, she’d taken to sleeping with one of his cast-off shirts, just to wallow in his smell.

“All the better for seeing you. And there’s no need for apologies. If you hadn’t hustled me upstairs, I’d have dragged you into the library.” Where there was a very convenient chaise longue.

She tasted yearning in his kiss. “I’ll take my time on the next round.”

“It was exciting.”

“I’ve been so bloody lonely without you. This week has lasted a century. I love my family, but I’d readily consign them to perdition.”

She couldn’t help but like how frustrated he sounded. “You’re here now.”

She was close enough to feel him tense. After a charged pause, he answered.

“I have to go back tomorrow. My sisters are staying another week,” he said carefully. Athene couldn’t mistake the regret in his voice. He was doing what he had to do, not what he wanted. She ought to find solace in that. “I shouldn’t be here now, but I couldn’t bear another day without you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and reminded herself that she had no right to complain. After all, she’d insisted on an affair. Having some of Hugo was better than having none of him.

That wasn’t how it felt right now. But then, she was always too vulnerable after they made love. When he was inside her, he touched her soul. She lost the ability to summon up the spiky defenses that had kept her safe in London.

Not that safe. You fell for Hugo after all, didn’t you?

Just as carefully as he’d spoken, she disentangled herself from his arms and sat up against the pillows. “So we’ve got tomorrow?”

Athene read the answer in his face before he spoke. Her heart sank like a stone. “I’ll have to go before dawn.”

“Oh.”

He took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Forgive me, my darling. It’s just that it’s Christmas, and I have duties as head of the family.”

“I know,” she said in a small voice. Most of the time, his tenderness flooded her with warmth. It didn’t tonight.

He looked troubled. Of course he did. She wasn’t doing much of a job of hiding her disappointment. “Everything will settle down. You’ll get sick of having me under your feet, I’ll be here so often.”

The attempt at a joke fell flat. Because she was wise enough to know that he’d always have obligations to his family and estate. She’d have to come to terms with doing without him most of the time.

It wasn’t his fault. It was just reality. There was nothing that she could do about it. If she was his wife, she’d have an essential role in his life. She’d be busy helping him run his lands, manage his social activities, care for their children.

But she couldn’t become his wife without destroying him. She was selfish, but not that selfish.

“I’ve got verses to write for Sylvie.” She struggled to sound as if she didn’t mind his absence at all.

After all, hadn’t she always prided herself on her independence?

She’d filled her days in London. She could fill her days here.

But in London, for most of the time anyway, she hadn’t been sick with longing for a man.

“The shop has been frantically busy. She used up everything I left her when I ran off with you, as well as the Christmas pieces I sent her last month.”

“You don’t have to keep working, you know,” Hugo said gently.

She mustered a smile. Not a very convincing one, if the frown that drew his golden eyebrows together was any indication.

“I don’t mind.” She just bit back adding that it gave her something to do. That smacked a little too strongly of discontent, and she didn’t want him fretting about her.

“I wish I could stay longer. I will next time.”

Then he’d go away again. She’d been so overjoyed to see him. She’d just climaxed twice. Once when he joined his body with hers and later, before he pumped his seed into a towel. For the last week, all she’d wanted was to see him.

Now all she wanted to do was hide away in a corner and cry her eyes out. She began to wonder if she was strong enough to be Hugo’s mistress.

But what was the alternative? She couldn’t bear to leave him. That would be even worse.

She turned to him and placed a hand on his chest, feeling the hammer of his gallant heart. “If you’re only here for a few hours, let’s not waste them.”

His gaze was worried as he surveyed her. She’d had reason before to curse his perceptiveness. “Things will improve, Athene, I promise.”

She knew that he meant it. She also knew that it was a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep.

But he was with her now, and she needed to snatch her joy when she could. She slid out of bed and turned around, grateful that at last she didn’t need to hide her expression. “Help me out of my dress. All the new clothes you bought fasten at the back.”

Because now she’d become a kept woman with a maid, and she didn’t need to undo her gowns herself. Something about that was a stinging reminder that she depended on Hugo in a way she hadn’t depended on anyone since her days with George.

Athene had a grim feeling that she was on the road to another disaster. One even more cataclysmic than the previous one, because Hugo had the capacity to break her heart into a thousand bloody pieces. However pure his intentions might be.

She couldn’t even be angry with him. She’d created this dilemma.

His hands settled on her shoulders. She waited for him to unhook the pretty sea-green merino frock. But he turned her around with more gentleness and kissed her as if a careless touch would shatter her in his hands. “We’ll find our way,” he said gravely.

“I know we will,” she said, but she didn’t believe it.